


Spring Wind

by thasmins



Category: Doctor Who (2005), 四月は君の嘘 | Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso | Your lie in April
Genre: F/F, the your lie in april au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 02:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16379432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thasmins/pseuds/thasmins
Summary: I hope this reaches her. Will it reach her? Will it reach you?





	Spring Wind

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't watched Your Lie In April and you want to, yeet off this fic rn. I swear. Don't ruin the ending for yourself bc of some disaster Thasmin fic.

_I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play._

“Sam, hey! Is something bothering you? I can get you a snack if it’s something in your stomach!”

_I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play._

“Do you think that’s just her way of getting focused?”

_I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play._

“Yeah, but she looks sick. Look.”

_I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play._

“I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play.” It’s a monotone chant whispered in such a melancholy tone.

Romana gasps. It’s not the first time she’s seen her like this, but it’s the first time she’s ever heard her say anything about it.

She glances at Turlough, who’s looking at her with the same worried face.

_I’ve got to play. I’ve got to play. I’ve got to –_

“Number 23: Samantha Adams. You’re the next one up, so please take your place in the wings.”

 _No, she couldn’t!_ Romana says to herself.

 _But she’s not feeling alright,_ Turlough thinks.

Yet Sam stands up. _I’ve got to play._

“Hey, hold on! What are you doing?” Turlough blurts out.

_I’ve got to play._

Sam glances at him momentarily. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

_I’ve got to play._

“But you’re a pale as a sheet!” Romana cries. “You shouldn’t be competing in this condition! We need to get you to a doctor.”

“Sorry,” Sam says, sincere and determined, “but I’ve got to play.”

_I’ve got to play._

“Because,” she continues, “I’m a pianist. I made a promise.”

Something in Sam changes. She still looks weary, but there’s a newfound energy in her. Her face wears a determined mask, telling the other two competitors that she will play this piece out no matter what.

Because it’s not about winning. She knows her condition isn’t the best to reach for the winning position. Because it’s not about reaching for the honour to play in a prestigious recital. She’s too humble for that.

Yes, because she made a promise. She was going to enter the competition and compete will all of her strength. And she’s not going to quit until the end.

_For her, I have to play._

* * *

The audience’s whispers cease immediately as the next competitor walks out of the stage. They know who she is. The one most of them have been waiting for.

_She’s here. Oh my God._

_There’s Adams. I’ve been waiting to see her play in over four years!_

_I’ve heard that Adams sounds even better than when she last played!_

One of those members in the audience anticipating for the girl’s performance is piano genius Sarah Jane Smith. She watches intently as Sam paces towards the seat.

“Miss Smith?” a student, Amy Pond, asks. “Is Miss Adams going to do fine here?”

Sarah Jane sighs. “I dragged her down here myself. She’s a mess, but she’s determined.”

She looks at the stage when Sam bows to the audience.

 _Please,_ she prays, _let her get through this performance just once._

* * *

She stares at the keys and they stare back.

Suddenly, the audience melts into a black void. Out of focus, out of vision, it’s only just her and the piano. Its monotone elegance waits for her to paint the the emotions that she’s bore with for her years of absence.

She looks closely, and a flash of a violinist glints against the fall board.

_“I’m making you remember things better left forgotten.”_

_“I’m a violinist who can’t hold her bow anymore! I’m useless to the world!”_

_“No matter what happens, I’ll never forget. I’ll never forget about us.”_

_“All you have to do is forget about me! Just press the reset button in your mind!”_

_“You’d be happier if we never met, huh?”_

“I’ve got to play,” she repeats to herself in a course whisper, “because I’m a pianist!”

But her palms are telling another story. They’re trembling, panicked with clashing emotions of fear, hate, disgust, and sadness. Quick flashes of bloodied hands taunt her distraught mind.

The audience is fading in with mutters of concern. She couldn’t dare look at them.

_“You’re looking down again!”_

There is a sneeze.

Sam glances; she spots the person almost immediately.

_Bill’s here. Everyone’s here._

Chains that clung onto her unravel. She could look up and see the light.

Her palms rest on the monotone keys, and the ending begins.

* * *

Chopin Ballade No.1 in G minor, Op. 23.

The set piece, of course. It’s also one of Chopin’s loneliest ones. Pretty morbid to be the one she’s playing at the moment.

She’s learned to play the score by heart. All she has to do is find a way to tell her story through the music.

She thinks about people. She thinks about Rose rambling on about girls as she’s transcribing new songs, Bill offering her lemonade whenever she’s gotten a cold, Amy sipping hot cocoa that she prepares for her, Sarah Jane’s warm hug as her tears touch her shoulders.

Everyone is watching her. Yes, she’s here because of them. They brought the light to her life. It’s because of them that she gets to finally give back to their kindness. She can’t let them down now.

Musicians. They express through music.

That’s what she is. So a musician she must be.

_“Even if you’re a sad, lonely mess who thinks there’s no hope for the world, you’ve got to play somehow!”_

Playing. It’s all she is, and that’s what she’s going to do with her life. She’s going to play. She’s got to play.

_Because like you, I’m a musician too!_

* * *

_“Don’t leave me alone!”_

_Don’t worry, Yaz, you have me. Inside me, you exist._

_I’m not going to leave you alone, Yaz. You hear me?_

The music piles up in the overload of emotions, the connection between the pianist and the piano. The audience is enamoured by the rawness of it, completely captured by the sorrow it draws out. It hides nothing from Sam’s complex mind of agony, the journey of her life altogether.

All because of one simple sentence.

Yasmin Khan likes Rose Tyler.

* * *

_I hope this reaches her. Will it reach her? Will it reach you?_

Her fingers fly through the keys, effortlessly moving through the score that’s beating in her heart.

And she appears. Out of nowhere, Yasmin Khan graces the stage as her bow lands on the strings.

Samantha Adams and Yasmin Khan. Two musicians of polar opposites, what could possibly go wrong?

But unlike last time, where it was practically a duel between two soloists, it’s a duet between partners.

It’s the perfect performance.

* * *

And suddenly, it all goes dim, and she’s fading away from her sight.

_No, no, you can’t go!_

The music is growing melancholic at its end. The audience notices.

_You can’t leave me behind!_

* * *

“We exist in each other, correct? I won’t leave you.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Oh, you twat. I was trying to be sentimental.”

* * *

_I understand now._

_But why do you have to go now?_

* * *

The last chords play with such heavy tone it almost renders her deaf.

Tears flow narrow streams that form a waterfall of raw emotion. Samantha Adams looks up and breaks down.

“Goodbye.”

* * *

She didn’t attend her mother’s funeral because she was at a competition that she had to win. Mere weeks after that, she lost her ability to play the piano.

She attends Yasmin Khan’s funeral, and after that, playing the piano makes her feel full.

* * *

“Sam, if you don’t mind, would you please take this?” Mrs. Khan hands an envelope to Sam.

“Thank you, Mrs. Khan,” she replies.

She reads the front, written for her, and back of the envelope, from _her_. The pulse in her heart shoots up.

“No, we should thank you,” Mr. Khan says. “Thank you for making our daughter’s life such a full one!”

“Yes, thank you so much, Samantha Adams.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Khan. Yaz changed my life for the better.”

“She changed everyone’s lives for the better, eh?” Mr. Khan replies.

“She did.”

Sam waves them goodbye when they leave for the wake.

* * *

With snow finally clearing out, Sheffield is ready for another spring.

“Hey, wanna hang out tomorrow afternoon?”

Sam hums and nods. It’s her sign of approval, but also to brush people off.

“Okay, I’ll see you then!”

She could tell that Rose is still affected. The girl’s been trying to forget about _her_ but could never seem to. It’s not because she’s a heartless bitch or anything. Everyone has tried to forget her in the sense that she wouldn’t be around anymore, as if she wasn’t confined to the hospital in her final months.

Fuck.

She brings out the envelope. She hasn’t touched it for several months, but it seems appropriate now. Or maybe because she couldn’t bear the thought of saying goodbye when she’s already said it so many times. Think of it like an unread text. You don’t have to stop talking to them if you never read the reply.

Okay, that’s a bad analogy. Unread texts are absolute shit.

It also means that an unread letter would be absolute shit.

Opening the envelope, she unfolds the letter inside. 

 

> Dear Sam,
> 
> It feels weird writing this letter right now when I had just seen you a couple of minutes ago.
> 
> You know what? I think you’re a terrible person. Terrible in the sense that you’re a literal slug, you space out a lot, and uh, you’re such a dumbass? I mean, you are one.
> 
> The first time I saw you was at a piano recital in the school I used to study in. I was 5 at the time, and I guess you were too. You were so tiny, and the audience didn’t know what to expect. Then, you bumped the stool off balance and some people couldn’t help but laugh! (Rude. Sorry.)
> 
> But you sat before the piano, which was too big for your tiny, delicate hands, and you played your first note.
> 
> My world changed. The notes were like a colourful palette that painted a pretty melody.
> 
> The girl sat next to me began bawling her eyes out after your performance. I mean, I don’t blame her. You were absolutely stunning!
> 
> Yet, after you impacted my life the way you did, you abandoned the piano. You disappeared from the music world without any trace.
> 
> That’s when I decided to switch to the violin. So that I could play a duet with you.
> 
> Slug. Dumbass.
> 
> When I found out you went to the same high school as me, I was elated! I finally had some kind of chance to connect with you!
> 
> The question was: how could I find a way to even talk to you? I couldn’t just buy something for you and hope for the best.
> 
> So, for a long period of time, all I could do was watch you. After all, you already had tight-knit friends who would never leave your side. No place for me.
> 
> In fact, I had surgery as a child, and then I became a regular patient being treated regularly. Then I collapsed in Year 10, so I started going in more than going out. I was hardly in school anymore.
> 
> I knew I wasn’t well. I saw my parents breaking down one, and that’s when I knew I didn’t have much time left.
> 
> So I ran. I ran and started doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, however I wanted. I didn’t want to live the rest of my life confined in the bleak walls of a hospital room.
> 
> I started wearing contact lenses. They were weird at first, but I managed.
> 
> I ate a whole cake in one sitting just for the hell of it. I was so worried about my weight at the time.
> 
> I played the scores however I wanted to play it.
> 
> And then.
> 
> Then, I told one simple lie.
> 
> Yasmin Khan likes Rose Tyler.

“What?!” Sam asks, exasperated. She reads the sentence over and over, making sure she’s not reading between lines. 

> That lie brought me to you, Sam Adams!
> 
> Please tell Rose I’m sorry. I mean, it won’t be long till she gets another girl by her side. She’s always been a charmer. I like that about her, but I also want someone who can love me for being myself, all the positives and negatives about me.
> 
> Also, I should extend those apologies to Bill. I’m the one only passing through, I knew I would be gone soon. She’s always been there for you, so I couldn’t just straight up ask her to meet you. She’s liked you for ages. Many people knew that. I guess the only two who never noticed was you and her.
> 
> The person I’d imagine was you wasn’t the person I met.
> 
> You were pessimistic, extremely passive, very stubborn, relentless, and not to mention that you stole my leggings once.
> 
> Your Yorkshire accent was stronger than I expected, and you weren’t as elegant as I thought. In a way, that just made you cuter.
> 
> When we jumped off the bridge, splashed into the cold river water, it was amazing, wasn’t it?
> 
> When we sang Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star, and the stars were out? They were so beautiful.
> 
> Whenever we practiced at school, late into the night, it was just very intimate. You and I, playing music. Because we’re musicians.
> 
> Isn’t it a bit mad that the unforgettable moments are always trivial?

“No, not all. It was never trivial.”

> So what about you? Was I able to connect to your heart?

“Yeah, you pretty much kicked the door open and marched in without my permission.” 

> If you could, would you spare me a thought every now and then?

“How could I ever forget about you?”

> Don’t hit the reset button in your mind.

“Never.”

> Don’t forget me, okay? That’s a promise.
> 
> I’m glad I got to meet you. I hope I did reach you.
> 
> Samantha Adams…
> 
> …I love you.
> 
> I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
> 
> I’m sorry I couldn’t finish all the canéles. I’m sorry that I hit you too much. I’m sorry that I was such a brat to you. I’m sorry for everything.
> 
> Thank you.

“You’re so selfish.” Sam looks up to the road.

“I should be the one thanking you.”

> P.S. I'm enclosing something that I've always treasured. You don’t have to keep it, you can throw it away if you want to.

The attached picture shows a photo younger Yaz and her friend – Ryan, who she's met before – and a younger Sam was behind them, looking timidly at the camera as she was trying to walk away.

* * *

“Hey.”

Bill stands feet away from Sam. She’s bundled in a fluffy coat and a thick scarf.

“Hey,” Sam simply replies.

They stare back at each other, the loud silence torturing them both.

“What are you, doing?”

“Huh?”

Bill walks in close and swings her fist at Sam’s shoulder.

“Hey! What the fuck?!”

“You!” Bill blurts out. “You better not be thinking about spending the rest of your life alone because I’m going to stick besides you, no matter what!”

Sam is amazed. Even after Yasmin, Bill’s standing by her. The pain on her shoulder could never compare to the loyalty she dedicates to her.

* * *

Spring’s coming by soon.

The season when I met you, it’s coming.

A spring without you is coming.

**Author's Note:**

> Thirteen's name is a reference to one of Jodie's previous roles. Sam Adams is a character in Attack The Block.
> 
> (Ofc I killed off Yaz, all my faves die!!!1!!1!11!1 I'm not sorry.)


End file.
